


The Break In

by coveredbyroses



Series: 2019 SPN Kink Bingo [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consensual Non-Consent, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Rough Sex, Smut, Spanking, Tumblr: spnkinkbingo, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 10:11:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18466828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: The bunker should be the safest place to be…You quickly find out that it isn’t.





	The Break In

**Author's Note:**

> *Rape/Non-Con themes - but it's 100% consensual.

It’s a quiet February evening, and you’ve got the bunker all to yourself - a rare event for sure. Sam and Dean are gone for the weekend; headed to Bartley, Nebraska to help a newbie hunter with a salt-and-burn.

You’re wiping down the steel island when it happens, the bang so loud and abrupt that it steals your breath. It sounds like it’s coming from the main entrance, but you don’t dare investigate, not alone. Your brain fogs over with the sudden release of adrenaline, and you simply stand there, damp rag clutched in your hand as you wait for your heart rate to settle. Seconds later, silence takes over once again; only the low hum of the bunker’s generator reaching your ears.

Still on edge, but breathing easy, you move on to the library. The tables and shelves are badly in need of a thorough dusting, and you need the mindless distraction.

You’ve just stepped into the spacious room when it happens again -

_BANG!_

You startle so severely that you drop the Pledge bottle, hear it clatter and roll against the wood floor. The sound is  _definitely_ coming from the main door-

_BANG!_

You’re heart’s pounding again, and ice prickles across your scalp and down your limbs. You go for your phone in your back pocket - it’s gone. Shit. You’d left it charging in your bedroom. You take off in a run, but then skid to a sliding stop when the blows against the door speed up to rapid rhythm of  _bang-bang-bang-bangs-_ It has you so locked up with fear that you scramble behind a bookcase, curled in on yourself like a fucking child - you even have your palms plastered to your ears, eyes squeezed shut.

The metallic groan of the door opening flips your stomach - how did they even get  _in?_ Fearing that this might not be a somebody, but rather a some _thing,_ you gather up all your will and lift yourself off the polished floor, shoes slipping against the smooth wood before you’re sprinting down the narrow, vacant halls.

Metal stairs clang underneath heavy boots, the sound sharp and grating against the thick quiet. Thumping footsteps get louder - too close - so you slide into the first room in a desperate attempt to conceal yourself - the computer room.

Your gut tells you your best bet is to crawl inside one of the ancient consoles, so you do; fingers sliding against the dust gathered there. You hold your breath, careful not to inhale - the last thing you need is for a cough to give away your location.

You eventually do have to breathe though, so you fit both hands against your mouth, take in shallow pulls of air through your nose. Your back is hunched in the small space, knees drawn to your chest as you pray for the intruder to just fucking  _leave_.

Whoever - or  _whatever_  it is - is fucking  _whistling_ ; some gleeful, happy tune as they wander through the halls.

“Anyyybody home?” It’s a man’s voice; deep and dangerous as he sing-songs. The sound of your own heartbeat drums in your ears, and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe.

The squeak of boots against tile has you tensing up so hard it hurts, and you can’t stop shaking.

You’d been in too much of a rush to close the door, and the sound might have tipped him off anyway, but now it just makes you feel so exposed, so out in the open. You push yourself harder against the back panel of the console, the cool wall of it pressing into your back.

The sound of footsteps stop, and you think maybe he’s passed you, or turned in another direction-

But then you hear the unmistakable groan of the door pushing open wide. Your mouth goes desert-dry at the terrifying sound and what it means. You pull your legs tighter against you, like if you compress yourself tight enough you’ll disappear completely.

Even his boot falls sound menacing, like each step is carefully calculated. Your eyes screw shut as you listen, silently praying to anything listening that you’ll suddenly be yanked to freedom, or that the thing terrorizing you will vanish into nothing-

Bones creak as a shadow falls over you; he’s crouched down in front of you, hands clasped between his spread knees. His smile would be dazzling if it wasn’t so blood-chillingly horrifying; his grin is too wide, teeth blindingly white against the darkened pink of his lips.

“Caught ya.” The whisper is a sharp hiss, and it makes you gasp out loud.

“Please,” you whimper. “What do you want? I’ve got cash - please just don’t-”

“Aww,” he drawls, eyes dark. “S’cute. You’re  _real_  cute.” His dark eyes rake over the balled up state of you. “Think I mighta hit the jackpot here.”

“N-no…Please!” You voice is a desperate squeak, but you’re just so  _petrified_. “Don’t hurt me - please. Take what you want!”

He licks his lip into his mouth, just blinks at you. “Oh, I’m planning on it.” The man winks at you as you whimper, just  _stares_  - like he’s taking it all in. “Why don’t ya hop on outta there, huh?”

“Please.” It’s hardly a whisper, just a faint breath of air, but the man hears it all the same.

“I’m startin’ to think that’s the only word you know,” he says, lips tugged up in an amused smirk.

“Please go away,” you murmur from behind wide eyes.

The man sighs. “Look, I’m generally patient guy…but I drove all this way here. S’only fair you make it worth my while.”

Your veins feel like they’ve completely frozen solid. Drove? Who  _is_  this guy? And how does he know you?

“Besides,” he says, that same wolfish grin cracking his face, “I know you’re all alone…”

You feel your throat tighten at that, but then the stranger’s wrapping a long-fingered hand around your bicep, effortlessly dragging you from the giant old computer. You erupt into a screaming  _fit_ , thrashing as hard as you can to release yourself from his steely grip. You’re not much of a hunter; your expertise lying in your studies and research, and even if you were - you’d be no match for this man.

He whirls you around until your back is flush with his front, thick arm crooking at your throat. You tense at the gentle pressure, your hands slapping against warm flesh and hard muscle.

“No-no-no-no!” you plead, short nails denting into his skin.

“You wanna live?” he grunts out, mouth pressed to the top of your head, hot breath pulsing against you.

“Yes,” you choke. “Please!”

He huffs a chuckle, and you know he’s just relishing in your struggle. “Gotta say - I love the sound of your beggin’.” He relaxes his arm, but keeps the weight of it looped around you. “On your knees, dollface,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice, “or I’ll snap this pretty neck right here.”

You don’t move for a breathless moment. You could run for it, but he’d surely catch you. Left without a choice, you limply let yourself sink to the floor, a second of relief following the absence of the stranger’s bulky arm.

He rounds to the front of you, towering in his intimidating height. You know what’s happening, can feel the air thicken with the reality of it, but it isn’t quite sinking in, so you simply kneel before the man, gaping up at him from underneath fear lifted brows.

“This is gonna be so  _good_ ,” he groans, palming at the swollen lump just under his belt buckle. His grin is sinister as he pops the button and guides the zipper down, the sound of it making your skin  _crawl_. Your breath quickens - and not in the good way - as he tucks his thumbs underneath the denim waist of his jeans and works them down. His cock bounces free - long, thick, and full. Your stomach ripples. He fists the base of it and you can see the slit shining with excitement. “Open up,” he says, and god you don’t think you can do this. He shuffles forward then, taps the slick head against your lips, smearing warm precome against the pillows of them. You’re just  _itching_  to bring a hand up to wipe it away, but he’s still pressed against you and you think it best not to risk angering the man.

It takes one hell of a courageous breath, but you part your lips to let him inch his way into the hot, wet cavern of your mouth. You can actually feel him shudder when you close your lips around him, and then he’s carding his hands through your hair, holding you still while he slowly presses on. You’ve never had much of a gag reflex, and he makes a choked sound of something between awe and approval as he passes the back of your throat. Your heart’s still pounding from the icy fear coursing through your veins, and the way your throat is plugged up makes breathing difficult, so you have to take in rapid little breaths through your nose, and fuck, your eyes are already clouding up from the oxygen deprivation.

Your hands are pressed hard against your thighs, squeezing in some kind of brace against it. He stills when his balls nudge at your chin, one hand leaving your hair to brush at the significant swell in your throat. “Damn,” he says, voice already a little breathless. “You really know how to take a cock, don’t ya?” You whimper around him, lips stretched around the thick girth of him. “Use your tongue, baby. I like tongue.”  Another garbled whimper and you’re flattening your tongue up against the underside of him, can feel the velvety ridges there. “That’s it…”

He starts to slide back then, and you can see the shaft glistening under the dim light. The intruder pulls back until just the tip is surrounded by your wet heat before pushing forward again.

His pace is unnervingly slow - it’s almost  _more_  violating this way; the way he takes his time to draw it out. He’s so hot and thick in your mouth; heavy against your tongue, and your jaw starts to ache from the strain of holding it so wide as he buries himself on every thrust, the wide head deep in your throat.

It doesn’t take long for the man to pick up the pace, rough hands molded to the sides of your head as he slicks in and out. He pants and grunts with every sharp rock of his hips, sounds so lost-deep in the pleasure that it sends a tight warmth to your lower belly.

The stranger jerks a little when you start to rub your tongue along the underside of the shaft, trying to get him off so this will just be  _over-_

He stiffens, folds over a little, then cants his hips back, slipping from the warmth of your mouth. You watch as he clamps a white-knuckled hand around the root of his cock, watch as it twitches; glistening and desperate in his grip. “Fuck, baby girl,” he pants. “You’re  _good_.”

You’re dragging in heavy lungfuls of air now, finally able to bring the back of your hand to your mouth even though you know you’ll never truly rid yourself of the taste of him, know you’ll never  _forget_  the taste of him. You look up at the giant, still trembling, watch as he just  _looks_  at you; heavy-lidded and looming, and you try hard to ignore the thick cock still fisted in his big hand.

“Stand up,” he says then, a dark smile following his words.

You give him a lingering, pleading look - but his face doesn’t falter, eyes even  _hardening_  a little. So you stand on shaky legs, eyes stuck on the floor because you just can’t bring yourself to look at his face. You glance up just as he’s taking one smooth stride forward, cock free from his grip, damp, thick fingers wrapping  _bruisingly_  tight around your arm.

“No! Stop!” you screech, trying to dig your heels in when he  _spins_ you around, forces you forward; one hand gripping your arm, the other twisting and wrenching your hand up behind your back.

He rounds the side of the old computer, takes you to the front and presses up against you. You can feel the damp heat of his dick against your wrist as he folds you over, splayed hand webbing over the side of your head as he plasters your cheek down over the dusty buttons. Your stomach’s gone rock-hard because you know what this is, know what’s about to happen-

“Please,” you try, voice so faint because you know your plea will fall on deaf ears.

It does.

He’s just so silent, you can barely hear him breathing as skilled fingers quickly unfasten your jeans. You choke back a sob when a massive hand shoves itself underneath your panties, fingers boldly rubbing and swiping. He swirls the pads of his index and middle fingers at your entrance, two solid circles, and then the hand vanishes as quickly as it came.

You get your hands flat against the console, push your hips hard against the edge of it when you feel fingers dip underneath the waistband of your jeans and tug-

He’s strong, isn’t at all fazed by your feeble resistance as he jerks your jeans and panties down your legs, leaves them bunched around your thighs. Boots rasp against tile, shuffling, and then hefty weight of his cock drops against your ass. “Nnngh,” you try, pushing against the cool surface, but the man’s strength wins again, keeps you bent and trapped.

It hurts, the way the knobs and buttons press into your flesh - almost like you’re laying against rocks. You wriggle and shift against it, but the man gets a heavy palm against the middle of your back, uses his weight to press you harder.

Your arms ache all the way to your shoulders with the way you have them bent, palms braced for an escape that your gut knows just isn’t going to happen - so you relax, let your arms lay lax in front of you; a symbol of surrender.

A dark chuckle sounds behind you. “C’mon, baby…What happened to that fight in ya?” You feel yourself bristle at that, at the jeering taunt, but he’s so much stronger than you, and you’re so  _helpless_ ; pinned underneath the bulky weight of the man.

You yelp at a sudden burning pain against the right globe of your ass, hear the smack bounce off the the concrete walls. He chuckles again, palms over the sting.

“Pink looks so good on you, baby,” he mumbles. Skin sharply meets skin again, and you can feel the slap bloom hot. He does the same to the opposite side, cracks his palm against it so hard that you hiss and surge forward from the blow. Sweat breaks across your brow when he begins to alternate sides, and soon you’re so raw you think you can actually  _feel_  the heat radiating off of you. “There we go.” His voice is lust-thick as he squeezes at the prickling flesh. “Somethin’ to remember me by.”

You shudder when he starts to rub his length along the crease of your ass. Jesus Christ - this is actually going to happen.

You’re not at all relieved when his fingers return to your folds; wriggling and searching-

“Well, now…Someone’s got a spanking kink.” Your cheeks no doubt match your ass at the statement. You’re wet, wet enough that you can feel it slicking up your thighs. You don’t answer him; you can’t - so all you manage is weak whimper.

Truth is, you  _do_  have a spanking kink, always have - but you shouldn’t be having this reaction to this… _madman_.

He’s got three fingers pressed against you, the middle dipping into your slippery entrance. Slowly, he guides it in, all the way to the last knuckle so that the calloused heel of his palm presses against your clit. You squirm against him, but it only makes his finger shift inside you. He moans.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “So warm and  _wet…_ Bet I could cram my dick into ya with no problem…”

“No!” It’s a whined protest, your voice so pathetic that you hardly recognize it. “Please don’t-”

You feel the heat of his chest as he leans down press a kiss between your shoulder blades, and then there’s a firm pressure of lips through the cotton of your t-shirt. “Oh, you’ll love it sugar,” he rumbles. He works another finger inside, pushes in deep. You gasp. “God, you’re buttery. Wonder if I could fit my whole hand in here.”

Oh, god.

“No…please…” The words come out rough and choppy; your frightened mind warring with the fiery betrayal of your body.

You stiffen at the press of a third finger, try to shift your legs wider because this is happening whether you want it or not, but the denim biting into your thighs prevents the movement.

The stretch burns, but your eager cunt easily sucks him in, and then, fuck, then he’s pumping three fingers into you, spreading them on each plunge, opening you up.

“Oh god,” you pant, voice taut, moisture starting to gather under your bra.

“See?” he boasts. “Ain’t so bad, is it?”

 _Yes,_  you want to scream, but you can’t, because it  _isn’t_  bad, it feels good, feels goddamned  _delicious_ , but you can’t give him the satisfaction. The heavy base of his palm slaps against your clit on every shove inside, sends little sparks of hot pleasure bursting in your belly. Arousal seeps from your cunt, and you know it’s collecting in the under curves of his fingers, slick and hot.

You hear the wet squelch when he pulls his hand free, feel the wetness against your folds and dripping down your thighs. There’s a kind of slick smacking sound behind you, and you can feel the warm, smooth head of dick shift and slide against the curve of your ass - he’s fucking  _jerking_  himself.

Your fingernails drag against cool metal as his dick drags down to your soaked entrance, and you can feel the intimidating width of him as he presses against you.

“Let’s see if this pussy can take me as well as your mouth did,” he says, then pushes in. Your muscles instantly tighten against him, trying to push him out, but he uses his weight to lean in, and you’re just so slippery wet that he effortly eases inside.

“Fuck,” he moans, and you can feel his balls flush against you. “S’like this hot little body was fuckin’  _made_  for me.”

Your teeth gnash at his words, but then he’s slicking back until just the ridged head is inside. He folds in over you, braces his hands against the slanted dash. “Hope you like it rough, baby girl.”

You only manage to drag in a shaky breath with he slams back in, starts a brutal pace; thrusts so hard that your hips painfully mash into the hard edge of the computer and your chest and cheeks ache from the buttons pressing into you as you’re pushed and pulled over the surface.

God he’s thick, hits every nerve hidden inside, and your cunt fucking  _sings_  with it. You’re clamping down every time he hits that deepest spot, clenching so hard you can feel it in your thighs.

At least he’s quiet now; just the sound of his sharp grunts cutting through the air. Your jaw’s locked tight with the effort of keeping your own sounds inside, and you screw your eyes shut against the growing ball of pleasure building in your belly.

He stills after a few more thrusts, gives you a couple of lazy humps, and then he’s straightening before a clinking sound finds its way to your ears, then a sound of leather siding through denim.

The man shifts inside you as he moves, and then he’s looping the belt around your throat, the strip of it tucked into the buckle, and you can feel the cool metal pressing into the side of your neck. He gives it a testing tug, the pressure pushing against your larynx, and you get up on your forearms to pull back with it, trying to escape the oxygen theft.

He groans then, tugs harder, and you choke out a sharp gasp. Your back is bowed almost to the point you think you might snap in half - and then then starts to rock into you again.

He’s snapping into you so hard that you can feel your still-tingling ass bounce from the force of it. You’ve got one hand braced against the metal, the other grasping at the leather around your neck, fingers wedged underneath, but he just pulls harder - to the point where you can feel your fingertips numbing under the pressure. Your vision clouds, darkens around the edges, makes every other sensation so much  _stronger_ , makes you tighten around him on every deep thrust.

You jolt when three fingertips meet your clit, swirling in firm little circles. It feels good, the heat of them, the pressure, and it’s making you burn hot. You make a choked, desperate sound, a little horrified to find yourself grinding into his fingers, but you can’t help it, he’s got you right on that brink, and you need to just fucking  _break_.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he rasps. “Fuckin’ come for me.” You don’t have a chance to truly process the command, because then he’s not rubbing circles anymore, he’s strumming  _wild_ , hard swipes over and over, swiping so broadly that you’re sure his fingertips are bumping into his pistoning cock.

You come with a strangled cry, and the pressure at your throat releases at the first sound. You let yourself fall with a thud against the console, can feel the belt loose against your back. You’re clamping down so hard that the man pushes out a groan so deep that you swear you can feel the vibrations from it, like the rumble dropped straight from his chest to your cunt.

He fucks you through the aftershocks, and it’s nearly impossible to come down with the way he’s still hammering into you.

You’re almost relieved when his rhythm starts to falter, and then he clamps two hands hard on your hips as jerks, spurting sticky and hot into you. He keeps himself buried as he pants over you, fingers kneading your waist.

The back of your shirt is soaked through, clinging to the dip of your spine. Warm fingers sweep at the damp hair stuck to your forehead, and then soft lips press against your temple.

“How’s that for cliche?” You smile at the smile in his voice.

“Wow, Dean,” you breathe. “That was fucking… _amazing_ , dude.  _God_.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” He blows out a heavy breath as he pulls out, softening cock slick against your ass as he leans forward to slip the belt from around your neck.

You’re stiff and limp at the same time, and you can’t quite find the strength to pull yourself up, so Dean helps you; strong arms straightening you to your feet and righting your clothes. You slowly turn yourself in his hold, bring both hands up to cup his flushed cheeks, raising up on your toes to kiss him soft.

“Thank you,” you murmur against his lips, easing back down to your heels to lay your head against his warm, damp chest.

“Happy Birthday, baby,” he says.

And you smile.


End file.
